


A Clock Is Ticking

by morganmariewrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dementia, F/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29469696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganmariewrites/pseuds/morganmariewrites
Summary: Hermione is diagnosed with a muggle illness, which causes her memory to slowly deteriorate. Draco has to come to terms with the news and help his wife through the distressing time. This is their story.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	A Clock Is Ticking

Hermione has Lyra on her knee when the Healer gives them the news. "You have a Muggle disease, Mrs Malfoy." Hermione already knew this of course, things just hadn't been right in her mind lately. Draco is standing behind his wife's chair, hands on her shoulders. The Healer continues to explain exactly what is wrong with his wife. In all honesty, he doesn't really understand, but he can tell it isn't good. Lyra is happily oblivious to what is going on, playing with her mother's hair. It all seems surreal to Draco. This sort of thing doesn't happen to him. He thought a war at age 17 was as bad as it got. Hadn't he suffered enough?

They got home that evening and put Lyra to bed, Hermione reading her a story from one of her many books. Like mother, like daughter. When the little blonde girl slips into sleep, Hermione turns to see Draco leaning against the door frame. "Nothing's going to change you know." He crosses his arms as she steps towards him. "I'm not going anywhere." Her hand slips around his waist, gently pulling him from the room.

"You might not, but this will." Once the bedroom door is closed, his finger taps her forehead lightly. Hermione frowns up at him, grasping his fingers and moving them away. She knows things will get worse, and in a way he's right. Her mind will slowly deteriorate to nothing. It would be easy to let herself get lost in that thought, but she doesn't. She can't.

That night, they lay wrapped tightly in each others arms. When Hermione knows Draco is asleep, she finally lets the waiting tears escape. It isn't fair. Why has this happened to her? What has she done to deserve this? She doesn't want to forget everything. Everyone. Her life has been a wonderful mess of hard work and unexpected romance. Its a life worth remembering. Alas, there's nothing she can do now. Just take the medication subscribed.

Which she does take the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that. Hurdle number two is telling Harry and the Weasleys. It's a Sunday morning when the young Malfoy family Apparate to the Burrow. Everyone is already waiting for them, happy greetings being exchanged. If only the happiness could have lasted. The adults circle the kitchen table while the children play in the living room. Victoire and Teddy stand nearby, eavesdropping. They're old enough to realise something is off. Hermione had insisted she tell them the news herself, but when the time comes she can't do it. So Draco takes up the gauntlet, his fingers entwined with Hermiones. There's silence as the group takes it in, eyes growing wide or beginning to water. The first person to say or do anything; is Victoire. A sob draws attention to the corner she's in with Teddy, and everyone watches as the teenager envelopes Hermione in a desperate hug. This sets off the rest of the room in a ripple effect.

The next few weeks carry on as normal, pills added to their daily routine. They'd drop Lyra at the Burrow before Apparating to the Ministry for work. Hermione would catch the glances of passers by, their eyes usually on Draco. As if she was already gone. Her colleagues in the Law Enforcement Department tried on numerous occasions to lighten her word load. Of course, the stubborn woman refused. "I'm not incapable of working, thank you very much." She'd insist several times a week at best.

It was during the fourth week things began to go downhill. Side effects of the pills were kicking in. Leaving Draco to wake in the middle of the night to sounds of Hermione vomiting in the bathroom. The first time it happened he panicked. He'd never seen Hermione this unwell before. Sure, she's had the odd cold here and there, but nothing like this. The blonde rushed to her side, asking frantically what he could do. In true Hermione style, she initially refused his help. Only when Draco persisted, did the witch suggest a hot water bottle and a drink. After a few days, he became accustomed to it, knowing exactly what to do. A trip to the kitchen for necessities, before returning to hold back her hair.

Up to this point, her memory hadn't really suffered. Just the usual forgetfulness of any person. Until one night, when Draco finds Hermione in the kitchen. Tears swim in her eyes as she cradles her hand. "Hermione? What happened?" He hurried forward and took her hand in his, examining the bright red skin.

"I don't remember turning the kettle on." Her brown eyes stare up at him, terrified. This is the first time she _knows_ she's forgotten something, and it scares her half to death.

"It's fine. It's fine." Draco takes out his wand and mutters a healing spell. Trying not to let the dread take over, as he makes her a mug of coffee. They don't say much else before going to bed. That night she waits to hear his steady breathing before crying again. Only, Draco isn't asleep. He rarely sleeps these days.

Things get progressively worse from then on. Small things turn to bigger things. There's a knock on Draco's office door one afternoon, and he opens it to see Luna Lovegood holding Hermione's hand. "I found her wandering around the fifth floor." When Hermione sees her husband's face she bursts into tears, and he ushers her in with a quite thanks to Luna.

"I can't remember where my office is." Once the office door is shut, Draco scoops Hermione into his arms. 

"It's okay." He sits her down, pouring the witch a glass of water. "It's alright." Draco sooths his hand through her hair, watching Hermione sip the water tentatively. The medicine stopped working weeks ago. They both know this, but refuse to acknowledge it yet. Instead, he kisses her head and kneels beside her. Waiting for the right moment to suggest she stop working.

The next incident occurs at Harry and Ginny's anniversary party. Ron appears by Hermione's side, flinging his arm around her shoulders. "You alright, Hermione?" She stares up at him, taken aback.

"Err, yes. Thank you." Confusion is written all over her face as she shrugs out from under his arm. Ron glances helplessly round the room, just about everyone is looking at them.

"Hermione. This is Ron. He's Ron." Draco is beside them in seconds. "You've known him since you were eleven. You met at Hogwarts." Explaining is the only thing he can think to do. This is the first time she's forgotten an actual person.

"I'm your best friend." Ron adds with a slow nod. Harry appears, hand on Ron's shoulder for support. Hermione continues to stare at the man, his bright hair is familiar.

"I..." She turns to look at her husband, eyes cloudy. "I don't remember him." This is when Draco insists they leave. He'll show her photos of Ron and she'll remember him in no time. So they leave, a protesting Lyra in toe.

Three weeks later, Hermione still doesn't remember Ron. Draco has shown her all the pictures they have of him, several albums made by Molly over the years. Nothing. Its evident that she knew him once, but she can't recall any memories of him. It fustrates her wildly. Lyra keeps asking why mummy can't remember Uncle Ron, and Draco has to explain that mummy is ill. After much convincing, Hermione is finally persuaded to take time off work.

It was a Wednesday when Draco found Hermione leaning against the door frame of Lyra's room. "Hermione? What are you doing?" Her brows are knitted together in concentration, and his stomach drops.

"Who...who does this little girl belong to? I forgot who we're babysitting for." She glances up at Draco. His eyes widen in fright. _No, no, no, no, no._

"That's Lyra. Our daughter." His voice doesn't convey his despair. If he stays calm, maybe she'll remember. The wizard was afraid of this, and now it was actually happening. She wasn't meant to forget _them_. Draco pulls Hermione slowly towards their napping daughter, kneeling beside the bed. "See. This is Lyra. You know her, you remember her." There was a pause as Hermione studied the infant closely, before squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

"I-I can't." The witch erupted in tears, trying to muffle them so as not to wake Lyra. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The words choked their way up her throat. Draco ushered her out of the room.

"It's fine. Everything is fine." Nothing was fine. Of course it wasn't. His wife couldn't remember their daughter. Her block against Ron he could deal with, but not this. Not Lyra.

The next day, Draco left Lyra with Harry, before taking Hermione to St Mungo's. They waited for what felt like hours. A Healer finally took them into her office, where Draco explained what had happened with their daughter. Leaflets exchanged hands, all about Hermione's illness and a conference being held at the Ministry about it. The brunette read through them happily, excited to meet more people with her ailment. When Draco asked the Healer if there was anything else they could do, the woman shook her head. So they left.

Hermione had taken a liking to Lyra, although she still couldn't remember her. They did the same routine as they had when she'd forgotten Ron. Flicking through albums full of photos of Hermione and Lyra playing in the garden, on the beach, at the Burrow. Draco had the hardest time, explaining to Lyra that her mother couldn't remember her. The little blonde cried for hours, and he couldn't do anything except hold her.

The day of the conference arrived. They dropped Lyra at the Burrow again. Hermione managed an awkward hello to Ron, who grinned despite himself. The Ministry was buzzing with people, more so than normal. People would wave a passing greeting at the couple, most of whom Hermione didn't know. Or remember, at least. They took a seat and listened as wizard, after witch, after wizard, spoke about their experiences. It wasn't quite as depressing as Draco tought it would be. Sometimes the medication did help. Apparently. He glanced to his side, watching Hermione as she listened intently. "I'm getting a drink, want one?" He placed a hand on the back of her neck, thumb carressing her ear gently. The witch shook her head with a small smile, and Draco kissed her head before getting up. There was a refreshment table next door, so he began to make himself a coffee. While it brewed his gaze scanned the room. They must have been the youngest couple here. A man in his sixties joined Draco at the table, welcoming smile on his face.

"Morning." The blonde nodded acknowledgement, unsure if this man was sufferer or partner. "My wife." Partner then. "Stage 6." Draco remembered the Healer mentioning stages of the illness. "Jeffery" The two shook hands.

"Draco. My wife too. Stage 5." The older man made a noise of understanding. "Any advice?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Jeffery frowned, visibly looking for words.

"You want my advice?" A pause. "Get out now, while you still can." There was a roar of clapping from the conference room, gaining their attention for a few seconds before Jeffery continued. "Don't get me wrong. I love my wife, but I wouldn't go through all this again." Draco stood frozen, not expecting that response. A large part of him wished he hadn't asked. Leave Hermione? Absolutely not. Jeffery bid him farewell and disappeared into the array of faces. 

Draco didn't tell Hermione about his meeting at the coffee table. It would only upset her. He slumped onto the sofa of their modest house, opposit Harry. The other couple had come round to keep him company and help out where they could. Ginny was chatting with Hermione in the kitchen, while the kids played in the nursery. "Things will be okay, you know. You've got us, we'll do anything to help." Harry breaks the silence, leaning forward on his thighs. Draco wants to yell at him, call him a blithering idiot. How can things be okay? They'll never be okay again. He doesn't. His head instictively nodds in agreement.

Ginny makes dinner, against Hermione's wishes. The adults eat in relative silence, while the children have a field day at their little picnic table. Draco continously spares glances in his wifes direction, as if waiting for her to forget how to eat. The notion seems ludicrous at first, until he realises that at some point she will forget. He has no idea what he'll do when that day comes. 

Harry takes the honour of doing the dishes, while Ginny cleans up Lyra and James. Draco watches Hermione twiddle her thumbs in her lap. She stares intently at the wedding band on her finger, determined not to forget how it arrived there. Or who gave it to her. It was overwhelming, the feeling of shame she harboured for forgetting their daughter. She'd learnt to love Lyra anew, but there was always a distrusting look in Draco's eyes now. A part of her was surprised he hadn't up and left yet.

"Draco?" Harry is stood in the doorway, purse in hand. "I found this in the dishwasher." Both men glance at Hermione, who pushes her chair away from the table.

"Oh, you found it. I misplaced it yesterday." She stands and takes the purse from him thankfully. Harry is the second person she refuses to forget. Most of the things she's done in her life are thanks to him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco asks once they've waved farewell to Harry, Ginny and James.

"I didn't want to bother you with it. I would have found it eventually." Hermione glances at Lyra, who is half asleep on her hip. "It's someones bed time." They're up the stairs and out of sight in seconds. Draco goes about clearing the mess in the nursery.

It doesn't take him long. He can hear Hermione wish their daughter goodnight and turn of the light. The floor boards creak overhead, indicating she's getting ready for bed too. Draco ascends the stairs, finding his wife sat on their bed staring at herself in the large wall mirror. "Hermione?" He hesitates in the doorway. Has she forgotten something else? When the witch finally turns to look at him, there is recognition in her eyes and he lets out a breath.

"I love you." Hermione smiles sadly up at him. Eyes shining. "I will always- _always_ love you." A tear slips down her cheek as she reaches for him. Draco slumps down beside her, arms wrapping tightly around the witch's small form. "I won't forget you, Draco. I can't. I won't-" Her voice breaks like waves over rocks, leaving nothing but a sob in its wake. The blonde holds her against his chest as she cries. "I love you. I love you. I love you." Hermione mutters more to herself than him at this point, holding his shirt in a vice like grip. 

"I love you too, Hermione." The words are almost lost in her hair, but she hears them. She can hear the lump in his throat too. "Even when you don't know who I am anymore. I'll still love you." Draco presses his lips to her head, eyes shut tightly. Those words only make her cry more, and he finally breaks. There is nothing else left to do. 

When the tears dry up and the sniffling subsides, Draco gently lifts Hermione's chin. "You are so beautiful." Her face lights up, cheeks flushing. She leans up and kisses him. It was intended to be soft, fleeting even. Until she realises, this could be the last kiss she ever remembers. This could be the last of anything she ever remembers. She won't even remember this eventually. Instead of getting upset, a fire ignites inside her. Hermione deepens the kiss, palms pushing against his chest to make him lie back.

"Hermione." Draco drags his mouth away, attempting to sit up as she crawls on top of him.

"No. Draco, please." The pleading look in her eyes, stops him in his tracks, and he lays back down. Its evident the witch needs this. Whatever _this_ is. Hermione pecks his lips gently, then each of his cheeks, then his forehead. Her fingers deftly unbutton his shirt, lips trailing down the side of his neck to pepper across his chest. She's determined to remember every single detail, the feel of his skin, the taste of it. Every imperfection, every scar. Draco is now fully aware of what she is trying to do, and he closes his eye in fear of crying again. It comes to the point where she's kissed everywhere currently visible, and starts undoing his belt. Despite the sadness engulfing them, when his remaining garments are cast aside, she isn't disappointed. A noise of protest reverberates in his throat. "Draco. Look at me." Hermione crawls back up his body, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes. After a moment, he does. They stare at each other, his eyes glassy as she hovers above him. Without warning, she tugs her nightgown up and sits astride him. A gasp rips itself from his throat, his hands grasping her hips instinctively. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. The witch slowly began to move, and Draco couldn't take his eyes off her. This might be the last time they ever do this. She might wake up tomorrow and have no idea who he is. She would hate him again. The turmoil must have shown on his face, because Hermione stopped moving. "I need you to move, Draco." Her night gown was gone now, breasts flush against his chest as she leaned down to kiss him. The words snapped him back to earth. "Show me how much you love me." She whispered against his ear, making the hairs all over his body stand on end. And show her, was exactly what he did. Their lips crashed into one another with such intensity, the taste of blood spilled onto their tongues. Whos blood, they had no idea. Draco bucked his hips, satisfied with the noises echoing in Hermione's throat. This was exactly what they needed right now. Distraction. The blonde gripped his wife's bum and flipped them, taking full advantage of the new angle. Their problems were momentarily left downstairs, the world shut behind the bedroom door. 

"I didn't know you loved me _that_ much." Hermione tried not to laugh as Draco settled down beside her.

"Do I need to show you again?" He grabbed her waist, tugging her naked body against him. A grin spreading across his swollen lips.

"Tomorrow." Hermione smiles against the skin of his chest, head fitting snug beneath his chin. Draco actually sleeps that night, and Hermione doesn't cry.

Draco makes the decision to take time off work a few weeks later, much to Hermione's dismay. It takes days for her to come round, but when she realised this would give her more time with him and Lyra, she gave in. Daily chores around the house become difficult for Hermione to complete. Such as preparing food or using appliances. She gets increasingly aggravated because there's nothing she can do about it. The medication still isn't working, making her sleepy instead. Draco carries her up to bed at least once every other day. It gives him time to do some work at home and send it into the office. 

Lyra's forth birthday arrives out of nowhere and they throw a party to celebrate. Balloons and streamers cover the place, as their house is rammed with friends and family. This is the first time since Hermione's diagnosis, that they get to see Draco's mother. It is a big relief when Hermione remembers Narcissa. Amidst the festivities, he explains what is wrong with his wife, and receives a hug that almost makes him cry again. The Malfoy matriarch offers all the money she can to help, but money can't help them now. Nothing can.

Hermione has the time of her life at the party, running around with the children one minute, conversing with adults the next. Keeping oneself occupied is proving an easier task for her than it is for Draco. He finds the birthday cake on the counter with five candles in, and stares for a moment. What did he expect? He plucks the fifth candle out quickly before anyone sees. The room erupts into song as he carried the cake to his daughter and she blows the candles out. Hermione is stood behind the birthday girl, happily laughing and leaning to kiss Lyra's cheek. For a second, Draco allows himself to push away the fact his wife is ill. You wouldn't know it from looking at this picture perfect scene. For the first time in months, Draco smiles, a proper heartfelt smile.

When the last guests leave, Draco finds Hermione and Lyra almost asleep on the sofa. Even though his wife can't remember their daughter, she hasn't treated her any different, and he loves her even more for this. "Daddy! Come nap with us!" Lyra reaches out for him, and he complies. His body slips behind Hermione's, so she's resting against his chest, Lyra in her lap.They lay like that for who knows how long, Draco listening to their even breathing. Fingers brushing through brown curls. The room around them is a mess, but he doesn't care. If Hermione's condition continues to get worse, he may never have a chance at this again. When Hermione wakes, they put Lyra to bed. Draco spends the rest of the night showing his wife how much he loves her again.

Within the next few weeks, all the Weasley's disappear from Hermione's memory. Except Fred, and George. She remembers Fred is gone. No one knows why only Fred and George remain in her memories. George insists its impossible to forget the havoc they wreaked.

So visiting the Burrow becomes strange for Hermione, being surrounded by people she doesn't know. They show her all the photo albums, so she knows they all know each other. Memory alludes her. On this particular occasion its Teddy's birthday, and she remembers him. Lupin and Tonks' son. Hermione is sat on the floor next to George's legs, studying all the people scattered around, willing herself to remember them. At one point she thinks she remembers the oldest red headed lady, the one handing out drinks, but the feeling passes. By the end of the night Hermione gives up trying to remember. She's just so tired.

"Hermione?" Harry is standing over her, hand outstretched. She takes it thankfully. Harry is still firmly in her memory, all the way back to that first meeting on the train. They make their way to the kitchen and a blonde man snakes an arm around her waist. A blonde man?

"Excuse me. Do you mind?" Hermione pulls away sharply. The rooms goes deadly silent, Draco's expression contorting in horror. _Merlin, no. Please, not this._

"Hermione, its me. Draco. Your husband." His voice is desperate as he grabs hold of her hands. Its finally happened. His nightmares had become reality. Hermione stood perplexed, brows furrowed as she studied him. Something about him fascinated her.

"Harry, what is he talking about?" She turns to her best friend, yanking her hands from Draco's grip. Harry has no clue what to do. He had to admit, he felt sorry for the blonde.

"He's your husband." Harry gives a reassuring nod, hand on Hermione's elbow. Every person in the room is holding their breath, some also holding back tears. What were they meant to do? Most of them couldn't help, because she didn't trust them.

"Mummy!" Lyra comes running in from outside, arms outstretched. Hermione beams and picks the little girl up, nuzzling their noses together. Draco stands watching them, at a loss for what to do. He just wants to cry.

"That's Lyra. Our daughter." Draco announces loudly. The sadness weighing him down turns to anger. How could she not remember him? They'd been together for years. "She's my daughter, I'm her father. You're my wife!" He refrained from yelling, but only just.

"Draco, calm down." George appeared by his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. The fact Hermione remember him, gave him an odd sense of importance. Draco jerked out of the Weasley's grip. No one spoke for a long moment. What could be said? "Maybe Draco should stay here tonight." George braved the silence. "Harry, you take Hermione and Lyra home." Harry nodded wordlessly, pushing Hermione lightly towards the door.

"No! I'll take them! They're my family!" Draco dashed forward, only to be stopped by the arms of several Weasley men. "Hermione, please! It's me!" Hermione glanced over her shoulder as he cried out. "Hermione!" His voice broke and he stopped fighting the arms restraining him. Hermione, Lyra and Harry disappeared out the door and Draco allowed himself to be pulled against someone's chest. Molly and Arthur ushered the other guests upstairs, leaving the rest of the Weasleys and Draco in the kitchen. George held the blonde's back against his chest, feeling his body begin to tremble. Was he crying? George looked to his siblings for help, and Ginny hesitantly stepped forward. Draco's chin was on his chest, eyes closed as he silently sobbed.

"It's going to be alright, Draco." The youngest red head gently rubbed his arm. George gestured that he was going to let the blonde go, but she shook her head at him. If George did that, Draco would probably just fall to the floor. "Hermione loves you, she'll remember." He sniffed in response, slowly opening his eyes to half scowl at her.

"She loved all of you, and she doesn't remember you." That was true. There was nothing they could say to make this better, so Ginny stayed quiet. Percy began to bustle about making coffee and tea, Bill clearing the counters.

"I think we're gonna need something a bit stronger than tea, Perce." George felt Draco straighten up, and slowly removed his arm as he spoke.

"Something we agree on." Draco nodded, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table. Ron was already sat down on the opposite side, quite sure this was the first time he'd ever pitied a Malfoy. All the envy he harboured left through that door when Hermione did.

"Here." Percy placed a glass of whiskey on the table, everyone watching Draco expectently. The blonde was more than happy to drain it.

"Thanks." He surprised everyone in the room with that. His eyes moved between all their stunned faces, a smirk cracking his lips ever so slightly. "Weaselbee." The word lingered in the air for a quiet second, until George chuckled. In turn his siblings smiled, and everyone in the room was certain the world had finally ended. They were sharing a sort of joke, with Malfoy. They'd been civil for years, for Hermione's sake. But this, was another level entirely.

The rest of the night was quiet, Molly rushing around to find bedding for Draco. He was left alone on the old battered sofa, contemplating if this was worse that sharing a house with Voldemort. In that moment, he wished it were him who had the muggle illness.

Draco doesn't get any sleep that night, unsurprisingly. Molly was the first up the following morning, which he guessed was probably the norm. Ginny was next out of bed, James on her hip. The rest of the family had insisted she not go home alone with James, as Harry was staying with Hermione. "Morning." The usual sing-song tone had vanished from her voice. Draco grunted a reply and got up, taking a seat at the kitchen table just as Ginny slid a drink towards him. "Here."

"What is it?" He crinkled his nose, it didn't smell pleasant.

"It'll calm your nerves." She took the seat opposit. "We're all drinking it." Ginny sipped her own drink, so he followed suit. "Harry says to be there for nine." All she got was a nodd in reply. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him. What would she do if Harry forgot her? It didn't bare thinking about.

They arrived at precisely nine. Ginny knocked and Harry opened the door. "Come in." As they stepped over the threshold, Draco was sure he'd throw up. Turned out the calming draught hadn't worked. "Lyra is still in bed." Probably for the best right now. Ginny went into the living room first, allowing Harry a moment with Draco. "She knows who you are, I've told her everything." The woman's muffled voices could be heard.

"But she doesn't remember me." It was more of a statement than a question, but Harry shook his head all the same. He'd tried his best to revive lost memories, but nothing. The hardest moment being when Hermione saw their wedding photos, she'd burst into tears and Harry had ended efforts there. Draco gathered himself, then gestured for them to enter. Harry went first.

Hermione was sat beside Ginny on the couch, her favourite mug in hand. When the men entered, she quickly stopped speaking, staring at Draco. Harry and Ginny swiftly left the room while the blonde sheepishly moved forward.

"Draco." Hermione smiled at him, patting the space next to her. It was still impossible to place him, but all the photos proved he was her husband. She hated the fact she couldn't remember it.

"Hermione." The name came out a lot quieter than intended. He sat down, making sure to put a bit of space between them.

"I love you." She scooted towards him, his eyes growing wide. Why did she have to say that? He wanted nothing more than to believe her.

"Don't say that." Draco almost pleaded. His heart couldn't take it. Maybe this is what heartbreak felt like. Like your whole being is shattering into hundreds of little pieces.

"I know that you're my husband, and that means I _must_ love you." Hermione took his hands, wishing his eyes weren't so sad. This was her fault. "I love you. I do." She nodded firmly, almost childlike.

"I love you, Hermione." The witch watched his eyes fill with tears, and also started crying. "I told you once, I would love you even when you didn't know who I was anymore." She felt the urge to hug him. This man must have really loved her. It was clear on his face. "This is me, making good on my promise." Draco let the witch hug him.

It feels like a clock is ticking over their heads, and there's nothing they can do but embrace it. There's a strange comfort in knowing at some point the clock will stop, and their suffering will end. But for now, they can make the most of it. Because even though Hermione begins to forget who she is, Draco can relive their story as he tells it to her. It's a heavy burden, but a small price to pay. A small price to pay for the woman he loves, and will continue to love until his dying day.

It feels like a clock is ticking over their heads, and there's nothing they can do but embrace it.


End file.
